A moment of weakness
by TheSillyFrog
Summary: After Voldemort’s disappearance, Bellatrix finds herself confronted with cold harsh reality and, in her despair, returns to her childhood haven. Companion to Insanity is Relative.


_Bonjour mes amis! The silly frog est de retour! _

_So here's a one shot i've been working on ever since i've finished Insanity. I'm surprised at how quickly i finished it but i guess i have to thank two of my favorite bands for inspiring me: Snow Patrol and the Cranberries especially for the songs 'open your eyes' , 'you're all i have' and 'zombie'. Oh and of course i have to thank you guys! Actually i got the idea from the lyrics in 'you're all i have'. The part that goes like this: 'there is a darkness deep in you. A frightening magic i cling to' Doesn't it seem like something that would go through Bellatrix's mind when thinking of Voldemort? _

_This is a companion to Insanity and therefore you might not get everything if you don't read the other one first. You're welcome to try anyways it's probably not that hard to understand. Ok i fear i am babbling again so i'll stop...now _

_I do not own Harry Potter.  
_

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"Our strength grows out of our weaknesses" Ralph Waldo Emerson

___A moment of weakness_

_By The Silly Frog_

The emptiness was the first thing she noticed as she entered the room; cold, sad, overwhelming, emptiness. It echoed in her ears, in her heart, each vibration was like another violent stab.

The dirt and the cobweb covered window let through a sad, ominous light and all the beautiful century-old furniture no longer filled the attic with those rare childhood happy memories. All that was left was a moth-eaten sheet draped over a rectangular shaped box, an old rickety chair and table and a coat hanger, all piled up in the darkest corner, out of the sunlight's reach. The sound of children no longer could be heard out in the street bellow, only the soft patter of rain drops against the filthy window and the _drip, drip, drip_ of the leak in the roof. Bellatrix wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that it wasn't because of the rain that the sound of childish laughter and cries could no longer be heard.

There was also a strong smell of mold in the air, rot eating away at the floorboards and ceiling. Bellatrix wondered vaguely if this was caused by the fact that, now that Grimmauld place no longer had any permanent occupants, the protective spells that had been placed over the house had now been lifted. In the end, the only thing that hadn't changed was the thick layer of dust, sprinkled across the floor, welcoming her back to her castle, her cave, her ship, her tree house, her childhood haven; where she was truly queen.

The attic had truly been hers back then. She had always thought it represented her in a way, full of exciting treasures to be discovered, as if its true capability had not yet been proven. And now, as she looked about the room, she could not help but find that it still represented her. Like the ancient attic, her heart was rotting away…now that her master was no longer there to protect if for her. She too felt painfully empty. Each heartbeat was like a hollow thud. She felt old and sick with worry; the way she knew the forbidden love she sheltered within her heart would make her feel. As she stood there, she felt an overwhelming nostalgia wash over her, filling her heart with an even colder, crueler sadness from which she could not free herself.

There came a strange shuffling noise from outside the door and the sound of the doorknob turning. Bellatrix made a swift move for her wand, momentarily forcing herself back into that combative spirit she had once been. But as her hand entered her cloak pocket, closing around nothing but air, she remembered that _they _had her wand and despair brought her back to reality. The door creaked open and an old, filthy, house elf appeared, his large bloodshot eyes growing wide with delight and surprise at the sight of his old mistress.

"Miss Bella!" he squeaked as he sunk into the lowest bow he could muster, his forehead firmly pressed against the floor.

"Kreacher…" Bellatrix sneered, making a feeble attempt at acting like her old self. She did not want to appear weak to anybody, especially not to a house elf. But, truth be told, she really did not have the strength of passion to be who she once was. She had lost everything already. She did not know if she would ever be able to ignite the fire that had once burned inside her. She felt so different…so weak that she didn't even feel the need to prove her superiority to Kreacher as she always did.

"It is an absolute honor for Kreacher to have the most honorable Miss Bella in the most honorable House of Black!" He exclaimed, still bowed.

"Don't _honor _yourself too much." She sighed, throwing her soaked traveling cloak onto the little elf impatiently.

"Make yourself useful and hang up my cloak to dry."

The elf scurried off to hang the cloak on the coat hanger before running back, sinking into a bow, once again. The witch was barely paying attention to him; her eyes ran across the empty room, lost in thought.

"Would Miss Bella like something to eat?" He asked.

"No."

"Or perhaps something to drink?" Obviously, Kreacher was eager to serve someone after many long months of loneliness.

"I don't want anything Kreacher."

"Or perhaps Miss Bella would like Kreacher to-"

Bellatrix reeled around with her hand raised, ready to strike the elf hard. However, all the sudden anger drained from her face as her met his eyes and she could not bring herself to harm him.

"What can Kreacher do… to make Miss Bella happy again?" Kreacher said, sadness and worry ringing clearly in his voice.

This question took the witch by surprise. She had thought that she had done a very good imitation of her old self. She looked down at the little house elf and was flooded with memories. She remembered the numerous times she had played with him in the attic, all those happy memories… The very last of the defensive barriers placed around her heart crumbled and Bellatrix felt that overwhelming grief fill every inch of her body.

With a shudder and a deep sigh, Bellatrix fell to the floor, a cloud of grey dust rising around her like smoke. She wanted to cry. Her heart was filled with an ocean of tears, desperately waiting to be freed. But every time she thought she might begin to weep, she remembered that horrible day where she had permitted herself to cry in front of the Dark Lord for the lose of her unborn son. That was the day she learned what true pain was. Voldemort was in a fury, telling her that only mudbloods shed tears and that she had severely disappointed him. She was tortured in ways she never thought possible. She spent the entire day in excruciating pain as she wailed and screamed, promising to never be weak again. Ever since that day, whenever Bellatrix felt like crying, she would be reminded of that excruciating pain, so horrible that she could almost still feel it. Her body seemed to have learned from its mistakes and now instinctively refused to spill any more tears for fear of going through that hellish torture again. Bellatrix would be forever thankful to her master for curing her of one of her many weaknesses. Through that pain, she came one step closer to be worthy of the Dark Lord's trust.

No, Bellatrix did not cry. She simply sat in silence for a long time, lost in her own misery. Kreacher stood before her, head respectfully bowed in submission. Even Bellatrix was surprised when she heard herself speak. The words simply did not seem capable of staying trapped in her mind for much longer. They wanted so desperately to be free.

"The Dark Lord is gone…"she whispered in a dry hoarse voice.

"He's gone…gone. No one knows where he is. There's talk…people are saying ghastly things. They should all be killed. They're saying that the Dark Lord is…" She could not bring herself to say the word. She simply could not believe it.

"Nobody knows what to do without him." She continued. "Everybody's off doing their own thing. Lucius is claiming his innocence and many others are doing the same. The weak are panicking, fleeing. The strong are crumbling. We needed him…we cannot do it without him. I cannot-"

She broke off, her body subject to violent spasms at the thought of having to go on, for many years, without him. She did not see how she would make it in Azkaban without him. She just couldn't live without him. How many troubling dreams did she have of him? How many times had she pressed the mark on her arm, begging him to return?

She gasped and coughed as if she'd been plunged into frozen water. It took her a long moment to regain her bearings. All the while, Kreacher waited in respectful silence, his large eyes glistening with genuine concern.

"I'm so worried…so worried. It's making me sick, like there's some sort of disease in my heart that's eating away at all my strength and convictions. What happened to him? Where is he? Is he alright? How…how could he have left us without any warning? I don't think I can fight on without him, Kreacher."

She stopped a moment, staring down at those two, pale, old hands that seemed so helpless without a wand.

"They're going to send me to Azkaban you know? I- oh Kreacher don't look like that! I haven't even been to court yet! But I know they will. Those fools fear greatness. They'd rather lock away the truth and call it insanity. If only I had my wand I could…well nothing really."

She grimaced and sighed again, running her hand through her long tangled mane of black hair.

"They only allowed me to come here for half an hour before they drag my back to my cell like some common crook. Rabastan and Rodolphus are there…Rabastan's terrified, you know? Last night in our cell, he kept calling for me in his sleep and I…"

She stifled a dry sob. How could she be so weak? She should be out there, fighting and upholding the Dark Lord's law. She should have kept the Death Eaters together, united. He had told her to do that. He placed his trust in her, telling her to keep the others under control during his absences. But she betrayed his trust by running off on her own, frantically trying to find him. They fell apart and it was all her fault. She should have remained cold hearted like he thought her. She should have…and yet there she was, in her aunt's attic, pouring her soul out to a simple house elf while aurors waited downstairs, ready to catch her at any sign of resistance. She could not escape. She could do nothing without her wand just like she could nothing without her master. She felt like such a failure.

"Rodolphus is scared too. He won't admit it though but in the end, we're all scared, I think. Last night he said something so despicable that I…"

She swallowed hard on nothing but air.

"He's been saying that maybe Lucius' got the right idea. He said that maybe we should proclaim our innocence in court tomorrow. I was so furious when he mentioned it. We had this really big fight about it. How could he even consider that to be an option? He said that there was no point in going to Azkaban, that it made more sense to wait for him at the manor…Truthfully, I don't think he's all that certain that the Dark Lord is still…well let's just say he's having he's doubts. My master _will _return but everybody's panicking. Crouch agrees with Rodolphus. They think we should tell the jury that we were all placed under the Imperius curse and forced to do his bidding, as if nobody in their right mind would serve the greatest wizard this world has ever seen! They're all waiting for me to make the final decision…that's why I asked the aurors to let me come here." She gestured weakly to the room. "I thought that- I know this'll sound foolish but- I thought that if I came back here to have some time to think, I would find the courage and power to fight for my master. After all, this attic has always been a refuge for me. But you knew that, didn't you Kreacher? It's always given me hope…quite stupid really but I couldn't help myself."

She fell silent again, looking about the room as if she expected it to change at any moment back into that beautiful place it had once been. Just like how she awoke every morning since her captivity, expecting to see that beautiful young woman with onyx eyes that sparkled with vivacity, looking back out at her from the scum covered mirror. It was never going to happen. She was never going to be that beautiful Black girl, the woman who had overpowered every other Death Eater until she found herself on the Dark Lord's right hand side. She would never be his beloved Bella again.

This sudden thought shook Bellatrix insides. What was she thinking? Of course he would come back! And when he did, he would welcome her back from Azkaban, take her in his arms and…

"But is it really worth it?" She asked herself in a weak murmur. "Do I really have to go to Azkaban while waiting for him? I don't know…maybe Rodolphus is right. I'm so tired. I feel so weak. I should be at home, taking care of the Death Eaters in his absence, searching for any sign of him, conceiving an heir for the House of Black-I mean look at Cissy! She already has little Draco…"

These thoughts comforted her a little. Was Azkaban really necessary? All she had to do was lie; she was good at that, being talented in Occlumency and all. And she could await his return in peace. She would still have her wand and she would give birth to a son to make him proud. She would wait in safety and- sudden realization hit her like an ice cold wave, shivers running down her spine. She gaped at Kreacher, horrified with what she had just been thinking. She almost wanted to use the Cruciatus curse on herself as her own punishment. Everything was such a mess! She simply couldn't get her thoughts straight. One moment, she felt a deep resignation and grimly accepted her gloomy fate and the next; she was trembling with fear and desperately thinking of another way out.

"Damn it!" She cursed, shaking all over.

Returning to her childhood refuge had not appeased her fears as she had hoped; it only made them worse. But maybe there was some meaning behind the dark cold attic. Perhaps it was telling her that there was nothing worth fighting for and that she should simply accept her fate and go quietly about the business. And with that thought, the last flicker of hope died from within her.

Her time was coming to an end. If she did not hurry, they would come up and drag her out by her hair. This time tomorrow, she would be shipped off to Azkaban. She gave a shudder, remembering the Defense Against the Dark Arts class where they had learned about Dementors and glanced at Kreacher, who was very near tears now.

"Don't go downstairs until you're sure we're gone, Kreacher or they might take you too for questioning. You must stay away from those people. They're no good." She indicated before quickly adding. "After all…I don't want you spilling any of my secrets."

Kreacher shook his head earnestly. The witch stood up and looked about the room, remembering for the last time all those memories that she guarded preciously in her heart. She only hoped the Dementors wouldn't rip them away from her.

Bellatrix went to get her cloak from the coat rack, feeling strangely empty. As she wrapped the damp fabric around her shoulders, she noticed the edge of the rectangular box, poking out from under the dust covered sheet. She recognized it immediately; the dark wood engraved with pretty patterns and the chip in the wood where she had struck it once with her stick. She froze, staring down at it thoughtfully. Was it still here? With one swift movement, she ripped off the sheet, dust flying up into the air in a thick grey cloud. There it was; her treasure chest! It was just as she remembered, large and polished until it shone beautifully. A long time ago, Bellatrix had found it hidden behind a large portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black propped against a chair. Ever since that day, it had served in all of her games, as a table for tea or a treasure chest filled with gold and jewels. She hid all of her playthings in it at the end of every day and left it where she knew it would be waiting for her return. She ran her trembling hand over the lid before opening it and looked down in wonder at the riches within. It was all there, just like she had left it…but then again she wouldn't have expected anything else seeing as she had placed a spell on it so that it would only open at her touch.

"Kreacher…come look at this." She whispered dipping her hand into the chest and pulling out the first thing it came in contact with.

"Look here." She said, holding out the stick she once used as a magic sword when battling monsters. How short it was!

Kreacher approached and poked his head over the edge of the wooden chest.

"Miss Bella's treasures…" He murmured, his eyes wide as he took in the different objects.

"Ya…" She sighed, almost smiling as she pulled out the other items carefully. There was her dress! And the wooden cat that came to life at her touch! There were old chocolate frog cards and a tea set and even a witch hat that had once belonged to her mother.

"Oh this was Aunt Walburga's." Bellatrix said, holding up the priceless goblin-made crown she had 'borrowed' from her aunt's room. "The shock of losing this must have been what caused her death." She added under her breath so that Kreacher would not hear her.

She continued to rummage through her playthings, taking refuge in that place where she was queen. But soon, much too soon, they reached the bottom of the trunk where lay a yellow and chipped tooth that Kreacher had lost once, when they were playing dragon. And once again, she remembered what she had to look forward to and let out a sad sigh, falling to the floor again as if the weight of her despair was too much to bear.

Kreacher picked up the old tooth and held it in his palm, his brow furrowed with worry.

"Kreacher asks permission to speak."

Bellatrix simply nodded.

"Kreacher remembers that day when Kreacher lost this tooth." He held up the tooth in question.

"Perhaps Miss Bella remembers as well? Miss Bella could not stop laughing. Kreacher remembers that laugh quite clearly. He remembers thinking that the wizards and witches lucky enough to hear Miss Bella's laugh are blessed beings. And now that Kreacher is all alone, that Mistress Black and Master Regulus are deceased and Master Sirius is in Azkaban, Kreacher still fights on so that he may hear Miss Bella's laugh again. Now Kreacher sees that Miss Bella is alone as well and Kreacher asks her; what will she fight for?"

Bellatrix sighed, a little touched by his concern but mostly annoyed.

"I have nothing to fight for anymore. The Dark Lord is gone and everyone's given up."

Kreacher took a step closer, forcing her to meet his gaze and for the first time, Bellatrix realized how strong and incredibly brave the house elf was now that she had given him permission to speak.

"But Miss Bella said it herself; the Dark Lord will return. And Miss Bella can inspire hope into the others…those who are worthy will follow. Kreacher asks the question again; what will Miss Bella fight for?"

Strange how his words hit her heart harshly, waking her up. She blinked, as if waking up from a dream and found herself breathing quickly as her heart began to beat faster.

"I fight for my master." She affirmed, staring back at the house elf with wide eyes.

He nodded, pleased.

"Kreacher thinks that Miss Bella did the right thing in common here." He continued. "This attic has always welcomed Miss Bella and in return, Miss Bella has loved it like no one else ever has. Miss Bella thinks that she is not worthy of her master anymore. She thinks she is worthless; just like this attic has become over the years. But perhaps all Miss Bella needs to do is search herself better and she will surely find a chest filled with treasures she had forgotten she had."

Kreacher patted the side of the wooden trunk and a grimace that Bellatrix guessed was a smile spread across his old face.

Bellatrix stared at him in complete shock, unable to utter a single word. She could believe that a house elf dared tell her his opinion and yet, she could not help but feel thankful. Slowly, she could feel some new feeling rise in her chest like the flickering of a feeble fire… She noticed that she did not feel so tired anymore. She thought over what Kreacher had said and realized that he was right. The Dark Lord _would _return. There was no doubt. He would never have abandoned her willingly. He would save her, no matter what. And the others…the others would follow her. After all he had left them in her hands. The fire was strengthening now and exhilaration awoke every fiber in her body. No, she would not cower away from a chance to prove her total devotion. She would not run and hide. Kreacher had said it himself; only the worthy would follow…she would follow her own heart and listen to what it was telling her. She would not give up on her beliefs. She would go to court and _fight_. Fight for what she knew was right. And if that landed her in Azkaban, then she would wait for him without fear or worry.

Bellatrix could barely believe what was happening to her. Only minutes ago, she would never have thought that she would be feeling passion and courage again as she did now and certainly not in this intensity. She felt invincible once again. Her eyes were finally open and she knew what to do.

"What is Miss Bella feeling?" Kreacher asked, his courage never ceasing to amaze her.

"Power." Bellatrix answered, a mischievous grin spreading across her slowly coloring face.

"And what will Miss Bella do?"

"Fight."

"Come on scum! Your time's up!" Came a loud angry voice from the staircase and Bellatrix knew that she had to go before they came up to drag her out. She stood, head raised high and eyes burning with determination. She took a few steps towards the door before hesitating.

"Thank you Kreacher." She said, at last, not turning to look at him.

And with that, she made her way to the door, her heart beating fervently in her chest, refusing to give up. The attic had done exactly what she had hoped it would. It gave her hope and the will to move forward, just like it always did… or perhaps it had been Kreacher all along…

'_Kreacher? Don't be silly Bella.'_ She grinned, mentally laughing off the preposterous idea as she opened the door. She did not glance behind as she left, slamming the door shut behind her. The force with which she closed the door sent dust flying off the floor, gracefully dancing in the air and Kreacher thought it looked like it was waving goodbye to its friend.

Slowly, the house elf placed the items back in the chest before closing the lid and delicately running his dirty hand over it. He was glad that he had a chance to see Bella one last time before Azkaban took her away from him and he wished her luck, hoping to see her again. He knew that he would.

Kreacher looked at the spot where Bellatrix had sat and he knew that Bellatrix was ready to fight once more, after her moment of weakness.

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_And there you go! I hope you enjoyed it! I know Bellatrix might seem a little pessimistic but i've always seen Voldemort as a sort of addiction to Bella and i don't think it was that easy for her to get over the fact that he disappeared. As for Kreacher, he might seem a little out of character at the ending but here's my opinion: Kreacher and Bellatrix were pretty close when she was young (even thought she'll never admit it) and therefore Kreacher obviously knows a lot more about her and is willing to risk more for her happiness. Maybe Azkaban isn't something one wishes for a loved one but i think Bellatrix would deeply regret it if she had lied and denied any association with Voldemort.  
Please review!  
Lots of love from the Silly Frog :D  
-xxx-_


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